heartsick
by starinhercorner
Summary: Prompt: "bioship, under the weather/synthesia" at kidiots's LiveJournal ficathon


**Author's Notes: takes place sometime after "The Hunt"**

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"What's wrong, old girl?" It is amazing—and a shame—how easily M'gann can forget that after six years on Earth the bioship hadn't warmed up to language spoken aloud as well as she had in half of one. _Are you tired? _The ship had been at rest when she'd swam down to visit with it, and rather than make it fully unfold, she'd slipped herself in through its roof with its permission. The wall had shivered as she passed through, and the charge had felt like circuits shorting, like Earth electronics in need of repair. There was no damage, interior or exterior, that she could spot, and now she sits with folded legs on its floor and cusps a control orb in her palms, stroking it on either side with her thumbs as if it were a face. Its pale light hums into her skin, dimming and brightening in unmeasured intervals.

No clear answer. The link on the Bioship's end buzzes and swims and swirls with activity, but communicates nothing, just feeds her noise. They're keeping the ship—_hiding_ it—in a small hangar under the warehouse just below the surface, and M'gann can't help but worry that even the minimal amount of water pressure will soon be too much. There's something ill in the dim lighting, something heavy and weak that makes her keep her gills on cautiously, just in case the oxygen thins out and she needs to vacate quickly. There's something about the ship's walls that makes them feel riddled with unease. _This isn't our new home, girl, we're just staying here until we can find somewhere else to go. Are you tired of moving? _A patch of floor wriggles in response. She presses her hand into it and feels it give purchase, the surface much too soft, much too... red? Not to her eyes; the ship runs pure _red_ over her thoughts as if with a brush. She blinks twice and it vanishes, blows away like sand.

_What was that? _She asks as if she simply misheard, mental voice soft and coaxing. The floor hardens under her touch, but keeps her handprint there, and she run a finger down the groove she left in it. _I'll understand this time, I promise. _Yellow projects onto her thoughts now, tinting the fringes, connecting to a... a scent? A sound? She doesn't know what it means, but tries not to admit it. She must be feeling things wrong, not listening hard enough; she'll admit to only herself that her nerves are shot and that she's been on the verge of tears all too often lately. Reflecting on this makes tiny gaps in her thoughts close to keep the ship from reaching into them, because the weight and pressure of her mind is not a burden to be placed on others' psyches anymore. She runs a hand down the orb again, feeling its stem tense, and smiles for the sake of a being that has no eyes with which to believe her. _Is everything alright? You can tell me._ With one thought her awareness spreads to every inch of the Bioship's interior, ready to intercept any signal it can give her.

The lights flicker then cut to black. The only sound in both her ears and her mind is that of her own lungs sucking in breath.

_Hello?! Are you there? Are you okay?! _She searches for connection, feeling the same cold of the steel and the water as the ship does, tasting red rust on the backs of her teeth, aching with a sudden and inexplicable sense of _absence. _Her throat cracks. She trips immediately upon standing to touch the roof with her hands because of how her legs are shaking. She lands on her knees and feels for the orb again, blind despite how her eyes are burning, relying on motor functions and directions she feels herself being pushed into that she doesn't understand. The ship doesn't move. Nothing moves. _Come back! Please? I can help you with whatever is wrong, I'm __**here**__, I'm __**here**__ now—_

"Now..." It clicks with her. The lights flicker back on timidly. The control orb takes on a healthy teal glow, and she frantically cradles it to her chest, curling herself around it. _Th-That was you. That was all from your mind. You missed me. Is that what you were trying to tell me?_ She feels a shine in her mind, warm and proud and content and bright. She's sniffling now.

_I missed you too. I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave but I had to. I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you. _She presses her temple into the sphere. _I can tell you now all about it now, if you want me to. I know it's been weeks. _The floor twists under her toes. Living matter rises up from it and sculpts itself into a seat. M'gann sets herself down gently into it, and it grows arms for her to rest her own on, extends past the length of her legs and folds at her knees. The membrane purrs at her back and she presses a confirmation into the ship's psyche that the tears on her face are _okay_, that they're nothing to worry about.

Slowly, carefully, as if untangling and unwrapping ribbons around something sharp and fragile, she unfolds the events of the past two months. She starts with the night the Bioship understands as the night they entered the ocean and returned with the most passengers it has ever held at once, the night she had piloted them there but wouldn't take the controls once she boarded again, the first night it had felt her mind disconnect. They end the night in the open air, cloaked in all the right colors to make them blend in with the sky, and with M'gann at the controls.


End file.
